


Labor Day(s) and Special Delivery

by f_fandom



Series: Growing the Family [8]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Blood Loss, Bottom James T. Kirk, Childbirth, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Explicit Language, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Hurt James T. Kirk, Insecure James T. Kirk, James T. Kirk Has Issues, Leonard "Bones" McCoy Saves the Day, M/M, Married James T. Kirk/Spock, Medical Conditions, Medical Examination, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mpreg, Nurse Chapel - Freeform, POV James T. Kirk, POV Spock (Star Trek), Possessive Spock (Star Trek), Postpartum Depression, Pregnancy Scares, Pregnant James T. Kirk, Protective Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Protective Spock (Star Trek), Selek - Freeform, Surgery, T'hy'la, Top Spock, pregnancy labor, sarek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 02:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_fandom/pseuds/f_fandom
Summary: Jim enters labor and Spock is there to help him through it. Bones helps deliver baby Amanda, and that's just the beginning, because they knew this was going to be risky from the start. And though the process is long and difficult, the reward is worth it.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Growing the Family [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191254
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags. I'm not a medical professional, but I pride myself in graphic detailed descriptions, including emotions and trauma. And I like being realistic, which means nothing ever goes smoothly. (Or is that purely pessimistic lol?) No worries if it's not your cup of tea, but beware going in.

Spock thought he had prepared himself throughout the months of meditation specific to Jim's condition. He'd thought specifically of Jim's body and focused on it and how he responded to it. How he saw it and how Jim saw it, and what they both needed to see in the near future. The incense of his meditation space had calmed him and come to smell like Jim and their daughter, so infused were they in that space and moment. He knew Jim was preparing in his own way. Jim's mind was brilliant and intense and golden and a force of radiant brightness against Spock when they melded. Spock had slowly learned to navigate it, the massive expanse that Jim had not been trained to order the way a Vulcan child would have been. The way he was. But there _was_ order. Jim had had just as much experience, without the benefit of safety and instruction, in forcing organization to his thoughts. Shoving memories of trauma darker than a black hole into boxes and barriers that must never be touched, never accessed. Spock knew he was calling on this technique now, channeling his pain into a vessel deep within. But the effort it required was immense. He would keep trying, and refuse to admit it was too much, and Spock adored this determination. He felt that Jim might be stronger than even he was in the focused way he was handling his labor. Because Spock was already struggling, angry and distraught at how little his meditations were helping him now.

Jim's active labor lasted for nearly three days, surprising even Doctor McCoy. He refused any form of pain medication, arguing that he needed to keep his head clear. Spock hated this reasoning both because it meant more suffering for Jim, but also because he knew that Jim was right. His desire to stay in as much control as he could through the process was one Spock understood. And needed to honor. McCoy hated it for similar reasons, but his extra reason was that he couldn't disobey his oath and violate a patient's explicit wishes. Even if that patient was James Tiberius Kirk. And so Jim tried to stay moving as much as he could, lying down on his side to rest only when his legs gave out or when McCoy threatened him. But his rest was fitful. And his renowned impatience was working steadily against him. Spock sat at Jim's side, stroking the sweaty hair from his forehead as he curled around his belly and trembled. He would grimace periodically, even as Spock attempted to reach his mind and push ease and sleep, convince his mind to pull his body into slumber. It would last for only a few moments. Then a contraction would seize him and he'd groan tiredly, his eyes sometimes staying scrunched shut, sometimes flying open. 

"I want to get up." His voice rasped, thin and controlled. Spock supported his arms and back, and they sat side-by-side for a few moments, Jim leaning forward with his eyes closed, breathing deep and slow. His face was leeched of color.

Spock helped him to the edge of the bed until his belly hung off the mattress. Jim braced his hands on the bed and leaned forward, keeping his back straight and trying to stretch it. Spock knew what he wanted and climbed behind him, digging his hands deeply against Jim's lower back. He kneaded hard. Slowly. Jim groaned and arched his back a bit. Then Jim grabbed the chair near the bed and leaned farther, bringing his arms across the seat of the chair. He buried his face in his forearms and stretched his back straight, which opened his hips and lower back more. His thighs spread wide and his belly hung low off the side of the low bed, nearly reaching the floor. Spock pressed his fingers and wrapped around Jim's hips. The muscles clenched under his hands, and the action was always accompanied by an exaggerated inhale and exhale from Jim. They said nothing for nearly an hour, Jim's groans and deep breathing the only sounds. Spock could tell when a contraction began overpowering him when he whimpered and gripped the chair. His shoulders tensed and he groaned, his voice shuddering as he gasped and waited for the contraction to pass. Spock rubbed his back through it, holding his breath until Jim was finally able to exhale and pant through the release. The full body effort involved was more than Spock expected. He could sense not only the immense pain radiating from Jim's back and hips, but the tense aching in his shoulders, arms, and legs. And the splitting headache that had turned Jim's eyes glassy almost immediately upon entering active labor.

He made no sounds aside for his groans and mutterings of "fuuuuuck" and "oh _god_." Spock had expected him to be cursing far more, as he knew Jim had a habit of doing, but everything was tampered, including his vocalizations. He was holding back so much, disappearing inside his mind, knowing he would need his strength for later and that it was only going to get worse. He just trembled and grimaced and shook out gasps during the contractions, while Spock could do nothing but watch the sweat bead his face that was growing paler and paler. McCoy had told him this would happen, that Jim would be focused and silent while he worked through the contractions. Spock understood, but it felt so eerie, so _wrong_ for his beautifully vocal and dynamic Jim to be so quiet. It matched the slowness and stillness of his body, which also appeared unnatural in its unanimated state.

Jim wanted to walk as much as he could, so Spock simply watched over him while he moved, and he looped his arm tightly through Jim's, standing so close he could feel the tenseness in Jim's body. Jim's hand was constantly pressed against his swayed back, trying desperately to distribute his body’s weight. But tremors couldn't keep his hand still, and it was as if he was pressing his back to try and control his whole body in addition to meeting the lightning surges of agony behind his hips. In the garden were they paced, Jim stood and closed his eyes to feel the sun on his face, which was paling quickly from pain. Jim watched the horizon, focusing on sights far off. But his eyes blinked and stared off, and Spock knew he wasn't really seeing anything except the pain that filtered everything. 

"We should put another tree out here," he rasped at one point. Spock followed his gaze, nodding nervously at Jim's desperate attempt at distraction. "What kind would you like?" he asked. Jim clenched his teeth and shook his head, gasping. "I don't fucking know, Spock. How about a green one?" He whimpered and closed his eyes for a long moment, breathing heavily, and letting out a small sob. Fear over his body's progress poured off him in waves, and Spock met them with a steady shoreline of comfort. "I know of several tree species that would look appealing," he said. "I can pull them up on a padd inside and show you." Jim glanced at him with red eyes and smiled before it turned into a grimace. He managed to pat Spock's hand with his clammy fingers, and his words rushed out in a gasp as another contraction startled him. "You pick it, sweetheart."

Outside in the natural light, Jim's face looked even worse, absolutely grey with dark circles beneath his eyes. In the evenings when they walked, his weak pallor was not as obvious, and Spock selfishly found himself trying to encourage only the late evening walks. As they paced the garden, Jim would pause in a step here and there and breathe through a long contraction. He tried to keep his back straight, but his head drooped and his grip on Spock's arm squeezed hard. He grabbed his lower back with his free hand and pressed his lips shut and moaned, heaving air through his nose. Spock was always startled by how long the contractions lasted, how many moans it drew out of Jim at a time before it would release him and let him breathe. Then he would need another minute to try and clear his head before taking more steps, but by that time, another contraction was ripping through him, and the process repeated. Jim's frustration was almost stronger than his agony in those first two days. He panted and grunted, but always insisted they continue. Doctor McCoy watched from inside the house and met Spock's eye from time to time. Spock would nod that Jim was all right. And while Jim didn't look at him to offer the smiles he'd been flashing Spock only two days ago, Spock still felt insurmountable love slamming gloriously against the bond, as if his devotion to and gratefulness for Spock was spurred greater and greater with each intensifying contraction. Spock never ceased pushing steady, calm waves of comfort, swaddling Jim in as much ease as he knew how to give. 

The amniotic sac ruptured late on the second day while they were walking. Mid-step, Jim gasped in surprise and grabbed hold of Spock as his knees buckled with a "oh shit." Spock caught him carefully and lowered him to the ground. Jim's wide, frightened eyes found his for the first time in hours, and Spock didn't even have time to examine Jim before McCoy was there with his tricorder. Jim's bare legs glistened and shook, and the liquid was tinged red with more blood. They helped Jim inside to change out of his underwear and robe, and then Spock disrobed himself and helped him into the shower. He turned the water steaming hot and helped Jim stand in a wide stance with his hands bracing the wall, his head lowered. The water pounded his neck and Spock turned him so that his back was in the spray. He put Jim's shaking hands on his shoulders and held him by his hips. Jim let his head fall onto Spock's shoulder as he stood leaned forward slightly, his belly bumping hard into Spock's stomach. He groaned and whimpered into Spock's neck and let the hot water stream down his back muscles. He placed quick kisses into Spock's skin, breathing heavy against it. Jim's belly was harder than ever before now that the amniotic fluid was gone, and Spock could even more easily see and feel the stretched uterine muscles clenching his whole body up, starting near his ribs and rolling down over the skin. Spock held his hand under Jim's belly, feeling his child inside being forced through his mate's body. Jim swallowed hard and gulped air, moaning louder when a particularly strong contraction surprised him. Spock was unsettled by just how much air Jim seemed to be losing, how thin his breaths were becoming as he panted. "I think," Jim gasped, "this is the only time we've been in the shower when I haven't wanted you to fuck me."

Spock let them stay in the steaming water for longer than ever before, cautious to make sure Jim's skin wasn't burning, as he knew Jim would not feel it himself at this point. Once dried off, Jim continued laboring, growing more and more quiet. He refused food, barely able to keep nutrition supplement drinks before becoming ill and vomiting. He cried, already hating the miserably traumatic act of vomiting, and feeling the clenching of his stomach alongside his uterus was doubly agonizing. Spock just held him through it, wiping his brow as he trembled and shook his head 'no' over and over. Spock could feel echoes of the pain in his body, the stabbing agony in his back and hips, and the stretching pressure the contractions were making greater, ripping him open from the inside out. And the overwhelming fear. He did his best to keep his face straight as he watched Jim grimace, witnessed that beautiful face contort and scrunch up and then relax for a few brief seconds in exhausted relief. Pale skin flushed red with exertion and streaked with trail after trail of drying tears. He listened to the many sounds of Jim's groans, sometimes low in his throat, sometimes stuttering and breathy, sometimes high in his mouth, the resonance varying if he had his jaw clenched or if it was open, panting. The worst one to Spock was when he clamped his lips shut and tried to silence a moan as it rose in his throat, how his forehead would squeeze and the sound would leave his nose in a crying, almost wailing noise. Then after a minute, it would break off and he'd open his mouth to gulp in air and swallow. Sweat was beading heavily all over his body, dampening his hair, neck, and shoulders. He was not just fighting physical pain, but sorrow and fear. He was not in control, and his mind was reverting to other horrors of his past where he was powerless. And so he kept trying to do everything he could to retain at least some agency over the changes his body was forcing him through. And that meant movement.

He might spend hours in the same position, just rocking and hanging on through the contractions with his hands bracing his back while he waited for his body to gradually open up bit by agonizing bit. Spock would place a thick heating pad at the small of his back, replacing it frequently. Another would be placed under the curve of his belly at his hips. Another at the top of his belly against his ribs. Everywhere the contractions forced the most pressure while they waited. When they'd get him flat on his back and Bones would check between his thighs and shake his head, Jim would close his eyes and try to breathe calmly, driving his head back into Spock's lap and groaning. He stayed on the floor like that sometimes, arching his back and rolling by pushing with his feet on the carpet. He writhed on the floor and stared at the ceiling, his hands gripping his belly when a contraction squeezed him. He tried to rub it and caress it the way he had done without ceasing for the past 11 months, but his hands shook now and he faltered. So Spock aided him and rubbed his belly in giant circles, covering the massive stretched skin that still held their baby inside. The final hours. 

Spock had never been so torn. He had loved Jim's body through pregnancy, and adored his belly swelling larger and larger as their baby grew within him. But now, at this moment, he could not look at it without his heart clenching in his side. He watched the bloodshot skin clench his beloved's body, watched it squeeze their child through him. He watched Jim crying and groaning out long screams as he clutched at his belly for counterpressure. And he wanted this weight, this agony and hindrance to end. He was responsible for this. Yes, Jim had agreed, even asked him, but Spock had been the one to put his child inside Jim. Jim's torture was his fault. And at feeling these thoughts, Jim glared at him through his tears, upside down from where he curled on the floor, and growled, "Seriously?!" Spock's face broke further and he fell to his knees, holding Jim's sweaty face and pressing reassurance and commitment, asking if he wanted to change positions.

All throughout, Spock helped Jim maneuver through as many positions as he needed. Doctor McCoy offered body arrangements that would aid him, and Spock followed his instructions to support Jim into a position that would ease the pressure of his laboring body. Through much of it, Jim simply changed positions in the middle of the floor, rocking back and forth in sitting postures with his hands bracing the floor and his head hanging low while he seemed to tune out the world. Spock was startled at how forcefully the pain was driving awareness more and more from him, how desperately it held him captive and would let him acknowledge no other stimuli apart from his laboring body. Other times, Jim would kneel wide on all fours on the carpet, his hips open and his belly nearly touching the floor. Spock would have no warning that he was trying to change a position until he would begin crawling on shaking limbs, his face focused and unseeing and covered in pale sweat. Spock would rush to assist him, and Jim didn't even seem to notice. As he kneeled forward on the floor in a wide stance, he would rock farther up and backward, side to side. Spock stood on his knees behind him, massaging his hips and lower back. Jim would then lower from his hands onto his elbows, press his belly into the carpet and raise his hips up even higher, trying to stretch his back as much as he possibly could while the muscles clenched and robbed him of strength. Spock held his hips steady from behind while pressed close against him and wondered if Jim would ever be interested in using this sex position again after today. With his head pressing the floor, Jim grunted in a rare moment of lucidity and said in a rushed voice that mumbled his words together, "I know that this is very erotic for you, but if you don't stop thinking about shoving something into me while I'm trying to push something out of me, I'm going to hit you." Underneath his voice, which was hardly more than a harsh whisper by this point, Spock had still heard the amusement and fondness, though blanketed in agony. 

Another position Jim used frequently was one that helped to open his hips even more. He would squat down on the floor and spread his thighs, while Spock stood up behind and held him under his arms around the chest. Jim gripped hold of him and let his weight go, allowing gravity work through his body and force the birth canal open. Spock easily held him and lifted him so that Jim didn't need to put weight on his ankles. He dangled in Spock's arms, lax, simply resting, but feeling his body splitting open beneath him nonetheless. Or he would put his hands down and brace the floor on either side of his belly, trying to keep his back straight and his thighs spread while Spock held him and kept him from tipping over. Other times he would simply ask Spock to help him lie on his side on the floor and then ask him to lie down with him, facing him. It always broke Spock's heart to hear the frightened whisper of "Stay with me?" As if even now, after everything they had been through, Jim's mind in pain reverted him to times where he had been alone, taunting him that now, at his greatest moment of need, he would be alone again. So Spock would help Jim curl his legs against his belly on his side and then lie the same way beside him, banishing fears of abandonment with surges and surges of love through the bond. He held Jim's hands and watched his face, letting Jim squeeze his fingers as hard as he needed, as the tears rolled down the side of his face onto the carpet. Jim kept his eyes closed mostly, trying desperately to rest and regain some of the strength he was quickly losing, but when they opened, they watched Spock hazily and just stared, fixating on him. Spock watched back patiently, saying nothing, while Jim stared and breathed slow and deep, often pursing his lips and making a small circle. When Jim tucked his head in and groaned, Spock kissed his hair and whispered soothing Vulcan endearments. Spock rubbed his thumbs over Jim's clammy fingers as he held them, pressing comfort and love and reassurance. He placed his hand gently on Jim's lower belly, reaching for their daughter and trying to calm her, trying to lift away some of the outer layers of pain.

This continued for forever, it seemed, and Jim was unable to rest anymore. No matter how he moved or into what position Spock helped him, he couldn't escape the pain pummeling through his body. It had progressed to a point he no longer had control over at all. He stood by the wall and braced his hands in the doorway, staring at the floor with his legs spread shoulder-width apart. He rocked side to side and rested his head on the doorframe. He gasped and held his breath and let out a choked cry. He dug the heel of his hand into the small of his back, pressing desperately as he hyperventilated and whimpered through shaking breaths. Spock wanted to take his arms, but Jim had shook his head 'no.' He didn't want anyone to touch him. And yet he did. He was shouting and growling at them, and then apologizing and crying through clenched teeth. Spock tried to push the humorous reminder that Jim had snapped at him more harshly than this when he _wasn't_ trying to birth a child. Jim gasped out a laugh and nodded, still not able to open his eyes or look up. And Spock knew he was drowning in the pain now, losing himself to it. Jim knew that neither being touched nor being left alone, neither begging for help nor pushing it away, would make a difference, and Spock felt the utter frustration pulsing from his mind. Jim grit his teeth and leaned his head against the wall, letting out a long shout of both agony and anger. 

"Jim?" McCoy spoke cautiously to test his reaction. But Jim was unable to hear him. He had shifted and was leaning face-first against the wall, his hands clenched in fists by his head. He started gasping again with a contraction, harder, harder, and then ground out a high moan and an “oh _god_.” Over and over he moaned until the contraction released him and he panted like he'd run five decks of the Enterprise. He bent over and held himself up against the wall, spreading his legs and groaning. _"This is not a no-win situation, my t'hy'la,"_ Spock pushed toward his mind. _"We will not let you fail. You are not alone."_ And so it progressed into the night.

_______________________________

By the time Jim advanced to the last transitional stage of labor, it had been four full days since his early labor began. And he was spent. He was shaking and covered in sweat, unable to move at all. Spock had him completely naked now and propped up against his chest in bed. They sat near the edge of the mattress on large towels, and McCoy had many others nearby, along with his equipment. Jim laid limp in Spock's arms, his legs sprawled underneath his distended belly and his arms to the sides. His clammy hands tore at the bedsheet. His head shook against Spock's chest as he arched his back and screamed. Spock's crossed feet held Jim from sliding further out of his lap as he writhed and shook so hard it rocked the bed. Spock dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth and wiped his neck and heaving chest. He caressed Jim's belly with the cloth, holding it steady as it clenched hard under his hands and tore a scream from Jim. He hated Jim's screams, his long wails. Because they were not simple shouts, but gut-wrenching screams that ripped out from the depths of his lungs. And Spock hated the way it sounded like a wounded, dying animal--exhausted, frightened, alone. Utterly vulnerable and defenseless. And as much as Spock held him physically and stroked his mind through the bond, he knew Jim _was_ alone, drowning and flailing in the agony that stripped every essence of autonomy from him. 

Spock smoothed Jim's sweaty hair back over his forehead and pressed kisses, whispering Vulcan words of comfort. He massaged Jim's damp arms, his trembling legs. He kneaded and rubbed Jim's shoulders, and grabbed Jim's belly to provide counter pressure whenever he saw a strong contraction ripple under the skin glistening in sweat. It shook him to see Jim's entire belly clench on its own, squeeze the breath out of him and push such stabbing pressure down between his hips and back. He thought of their baby inside Jim, how long she had been growing in him. How this final stage to bring her into the world was more traumatic than he ever could have imagined. They sat like this for nearly two hours, Jim growing weaker and weaker. Spock made him take sips of water through a straw occasionally, and it helped ease Jim's throat that was tearing and turning hoarse from his shouts. He saw now what Jim had been afraid of, how he could only lie there in Spock's arms and shudder and shake and scream. He couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn’t see through the sweat and tears and pain. He was captive to the contractions, unable to control them. Only free of them when his body decided. And as experienced as he was at withstanding physical pain, he had never been subjected to anything like this in his life before. This pain--coming not from some external blow or attack, but an internal force breaking out--was new.

McCoy came and stood in front of them where they sat on the bed. He looked Jim in the eyes and smiled gently, something Spock had never seen him do with Jim--at least not while Jim could see him do it. McCoy reached out and caressed the side of Jim's trembling face, nodding to him as he gulped for air, making sure he was still with them. Then he sat on the stool and lifted Jim's legs to peer between his shaking thighs. Jim grunted and screamed his way through another long contraction, and McCoy observed it as it went on and on. He kept his face professionally passive, and wiped Jim's thighs gently with a cloth and patted his knee.

"You're almost ready to bring her here, Jim. You're almost there. Just have to dilate a little more. You're doin awesome, kiddo. I'd ask you how you're feeling, but I know better. Should've at least taken the epidural when I offered.”

Jim panted and laughed, his voice a hoarse whisper above the quivering smile he tried and failed to give. "It's really...h...happening."

McCoy grinned. "You better believe it, old son. You have done something that no one else has, if I heard about it correctly. I've never seen an implant surgery quite like the one those hobgoblins did on you. I mean, they really thought of everything. The way the opening appeared only when it was ready, the way the birth canal pushed everything out of its way and moved things around down there--"

"Bones." Jim whined and panted. "Shut up."

McCoy shrugged and was no doubt about to say something else when Jim clenched up again and moaned high in his throat. He drove his head back against Spock's chest and screamed. High whimpers left his throat, and he blew out over and over through his mouth. His whole body shook with the heaving breaths he gasped in and out. He whimpered against Spock's firm support, trembling and letting his mouth hang open as he hyperventilated. It was the verge of panic, Spock knew. McCoy held Jim's knee and looked close between his thighs again.

"You're starting to bleed a lot, Jim. You're not pushing, are you?"

"NO," Jim rasped. He panted and then screamed as another contraction robbed him of breath. The chords in his neck strained and shook.

Waiting for Jim's body to dilate the last 2 centimeters that McCoy required was the hardest part so far. Jim quickly became incoherent and delirious. All he did was shiver, and blink tears and sweat from his eyes as he screamed. His teeth chattered between contractions, and his face held a permanent grimace. His open eyes did not see Spock anymore. He didn't even have the strength to writhe against the pain anymore, no longer arching his back or driving his head into Spock's chest. The gentle light of the bedroom cast his sweaty skin in a glow. Shadows swept across his body as he shook. McCoy's face became more and more stern as he watched him and sat between his wobbly legs, holding his knees. Suddenly, Jim began gasping and stared at McCoy through bloodshot eyes.

"I have to push," he panted. "I _need to push._ Please."

"No, Jim." McCoy's voice was stern, but soft.

"I need," Jim panted. "Need..."

"No," McCoy repeated. "Blow out through your mouth when you feel the urge to push. Your hip joint shows one hairline fracture already, which I was afraid of for you. You can't force this, okay, darlin?"

Spock was shocked at this news, but Jim didn't even seem to hear. He was further shocked to discover he did not know how many minutes passed after that. He could not say. All he could do was watch his mate suffer horribly in his arms. The bond was lance-hot with Jim's agony as the unstoppable pressure broke his small hips apart. The bond itself seemed to splinter, even though Spock couldn't reach his mind. Jim wouldn't let him. Even now, he was fighting to keep his mental shields in place. As Jim screamed and screamed, Spock felt the mental shields fracturing. But they held. Jim opened his mouth and wailed, crying and heaving air and scrunching his eyes shut through his tears. Spock stared down at him in horror and sympathy, his own tears dripping and joining the liquid on Jim's forehead. Neither he not Spock heard McCoy speaking to them, and the Doctor had to tap Spock's arm to get his attention.

"Jim," he said loudly. "Jim, are you ready?"

Jim couldn't respond, but Spock re-centered himself began repositioning Jim, drawing him up higher against his chest. He scooted forward on the bed slightly, bringing them closer to the edge where McCoy sat ready. Jim jolted at the movement, blinking his eyes into focus with much difficulty. Spock had pulled him up so that Jim's sweaty head now rested right next to his on his shoulder. He gripped Jim under his arms, holding his chest and keeping his back flush against his own body. He could see slightly more of the Doctor's movements now over Jim's distended belly. McCoy bent Jim's knees higher and spread his juddering thighs up on either side of his belly. Jim's hands automatically, instinctively went to the back of his thighs, grasping, slipping. McCoy held them apart himself, stroking gently with his strong, steady hands.

"You ready, kid?" McCoy asked. 

"Ca--can I...?"

"Yeah. It's time to push now. But remember!...Easy. Let the contractions guide you. Breathe through the first of it, push deep and steady from the center of your body when it peaks, and then ease up. You've _got_ to keep breathing, okay? Do. Not. Force. Anything. You understand me?"

Jim managed to nod. McCoy met Spock's eyes, and Spock nodded as well. 

"And if I tell you to stop pushing, you stop pushing immediately. Got it?"

Jim whimpered and panted through another nod. 

"All righty then," McCoy said. He took Jim's left foot and braced it up on his shoulder, while he held Jim's inner thigh out. "Traffic jam's over. Let's get little miss Amanda out here to meet you."

Spock held Jim tight and tried to keep the shaking from his own limbs as he looped his hands under Jim's shoulders and kept him propped up against his chest. He kissed Jim's temple, pressing strength and reassurance. And confidence. _You can do this, ashayam._

______________________________

Jim saw and heard things through a fog. Bones's face loomed far away and his voice was muffled. He tried to read his lips instead, the body language in his eyes and the creases in his forehead. The strength with which he gripped his knee and held his thighs apart. Spock was a boulder behind him, present and unmoving. He couldn't stop his limbs from shaking or his chest and throat from spasming as he tried to gulp in air and pant. All he could feel was the agony ripping through his entire body. His head felt ready to split open, and his back stabbed and wrenched without ceasing. And none of it compared to the sensation of his abdomen being ripped apart from the inside out, the horrible pressure slowly bulldozing his hips apart and pressing his lower back out of existence. It wouldn't stop, and despite how long his labor had stretched on, he couldn't adjust to the incredible _stretching_ of his body. Contractions stretched him further, forcing his body apart without time to stabilize. He couldn't stop the screams ripping from his throat as his body clenched and _squeezed_ his baby through him. He could feel her head practically scraping his hip girdle in the birth canal, and he couldn't even move for fear she would break him apart. Or that he would somehow compromise her already limited space. His giant belly rippled with each contraction, squeezing and forcing. It would start near his ribs and he'd groan and start huffing air, riding it, riding it, then screaming as it crested and held for what seemed like forever, before easing up and releasing him to fall limp again and heave in shuddering whines and whimpers. He felt Spock's fear and horror underneath the comfort he kept trying to send. He didn't want to imagine what he looked like in Spock's arms, how utterly wrecked. He already had a good idea. 

He'd been shocked out of the haze when Spock lifted him straighter, and now he hunched over his distended belly with every contraction, pressing his chest to it and leaning over so impossibly far that he could almost see the bed down beneath him if he peeled open his scrunched eyes. Spock's chest against his back vibrated as Spock spoke encouraging words he couldn't hear. Sweat dripped off his nose and he was pretty sure he was screaming so powerfully he was drooling, too. He could hardly notice these things. Each monstrous wave of agony had Spock gripping him tighter for counterpressure as he curled his body forward. Bones pressed his thighs back as well for counterpressure, his knees folded up beside his head. His feet were braced on Bones's shoulders, and he wormed his hands between his legs to grasp and pull against his stomach as he screamed. He could feel her head stretching his skin, sending his nerves on fire throughout his entire body. 

"I can see her head, Jim," Bones said. "She's starting to crown. You're doing great. Just keep it up."

Jim remained hunched over as he heaved and gasped during a slight respite between contractions. She was continuing to push through him, and his body wasn't releasing her. He gulped as another wave began and then shrieked as he was stretched wider than ever before. He trembled and screamed and heard Bones calling to him. When he could get in air, he felt Bones grabbing him, moving his shaking, clammy hand from his belly down underneath it. His elbow stretched as Bones guided his hand and there, under the giant mound of his belly and down between his quivering thighs, he touched his baby's head coming out of him. Somehow, he peeled open his burning eyes and found Bones grinning at him.

"Here," Bones said. "Take his thigh, Spock."

And as Spock took over gripping his left thigh open and to the side, Bones angled a mirror against the fire of his flesh. Jim was initially horrified at the blood and the impossibly wide stretch of his skin, so tight and raw that seeing it made it singe even worse. But there in the middle, the source of the stretching, was the tip of his baby girl's head. The dark hair that already curled. He petted it, not really feeling anything through his fried nerves, but he watched his fingers touch her. His skin pulsed and stretched around her head as another contraction forced him to open even wider. He screamed and kept his hand there, determined, and felt her head move as a result of his body's pushing. Her head pressed harder against his hand, and he gripped his thigh back hard, trying to widen his hips even more for her. After his shriek broke off and he cried, he felt the worst thing. His muscles retracted and her head sucked back inside his body a few centimeters, closing over her. Jim sobbed and wailed in frustration, not hearing Bones shaking his arm, trying to tell him it was normal and that when she crowned again she'd come out for good. It didn't help the next 10 minutes of Jim screaming his head off as he hunched over and tried to focus past the awful stretching and tearing of his body as she once again squeezed him apart. He forced his eyes open and watched the hazy view of her hair, then more of the back of her head, slowly emerging out of him. The _immediate_ relief that engulfed him when her head finally passed through him and out was enough to send him falling back limp against Spock's strong chest. He heaved and whimpered and gulped air and moaned, trying to close his thighs around the burning agony. But Bones held his legs firm, getting Spock to help again.

"Look, Jim. Look at her. Both of you."

Spock craned his head and helped Jim to sit straighter again. They couldn’t see past his belly, but Bones angled the mirror back farther and then they saw her. Again, just seeing it nearly sent Jim into shock at the bizarre aspect of his baby's head just sitting there sticking out of him at the bleeding space between his thighs. But there she was. For so long she had been inside him, but now she was there. Halfway there. Spock's pride rushed through the bond, gushing over them both. But Jim just whimpered and gasped. His skin pulsed around her neck, clenching and working her to remain in position. Jim focused his hazy vision on her impossibly tiny face, the pebble of a curved nose and tiny slits of closed eyes. And those perfectly miniature ears, pointed just like her samekh's. Spock's adoration washed over him, matching his own that was too weak to be expressed, but that bloomed there under his agony and exhaustion nonetheless. His baby Vulcan girl. Their Amanda. She was so close. Spock kissed his temple and nuzzled, unable to touch his face with his steadying grip on Jim's shoulders and thigh. Jim whimpered, trying to laugh or say anything at the joy of seeing her, but his throat could only make small, broken noises.

"You're doing great, Jim," Bones said. "I know you're exhausted, but you're almost there. Just a little more now."

Jim just shivered and grinned and moaned, and then he was hissing _"oh god, no,"_ and another rising contraction sent him flying over his stomach again, hunching and pushing with everything he had. Her head had been the worst. Or so he thought. So round and equal in its pressure. Now her shoulders were coming. Hard angles pushing against his skin for access, stretching him into a shape his body wouldn't permit. He shrieked and wailed over and over with each contraction that tortured him into yielding. And yet his body couldn't stretch any farther. She was stuck. Fear gripped him. He could feel the beginnings of unconsciousness. He'd experienced it enough to recognize the horizon of rest he knew he couldn't accept. So tempting and inviting even as his very being warned him _no_. The waning of strength that had begun and now couldn't be stopped. He panted and panted and flew his eyes wide. 

"C'mon, kid. You wanted to push. Now here's your chance. Don't you give up. She's not stuck, okay? You gotta keep pushing. I can't help her until you give a little more of her to me."

Jim moaned high in his throat and shook his head. He didn't know how. The contractions kept gripping him and forcing him open, but nothing was moving. It was like none of it was making a difference. Agony surged through him and he hunched over, shrieking as loud as he could in desperation. He felt the joints of his hips creaking, hyperextending. Pain ripped him apart. Suddenly, Bones gripped his knees.

"Okay, stop pushing for a second, Jim. Freeze. Don't push again. You're tearing."

A fresh contraction gripped him as he heard this and he screamed in frustration, throwing his head back over Spock's shoulder as he panted over and over and over through the contraction. His chest heaved and he gasped in overexaggerated gulps of air, trying to do anything but push the way his body commanded him to. Bones had told him to push, so that's what he was doing! Make up his damn mind already! Bones palpitated his lower belly and then his hands were on the baby hanging halfway out of his body, on Jim's inflamed, stretched skin holding her, and then _"fucking hell!"_ Jim screamed, and Bones was maneuvering and repositioning and mumbling _I'm sorry, Jim, I'm sorry, just hold on_ , and Jim was shrieking, his body jerking away from Bones's touch. Spock held him steady and whispered encouragement, but his voice was breaking. Spock was breathing faster in his ear. Unsteady.

"Spock!" Jim shrieked. He needed him. He couldn't afford to have Spock becoming compromised now, even as spots of light began pulsing behind his scrunched eyes. Spock shushed him and snapped back when Jim's panic surged over him. He reinitiated his blanket of comfort and reassurance. 

"I am here, Jim. It will be all right. Breathe. Please, breathe. Deep breaths, ashayam."

Jim shrieked and writhed in Spock's arms as Bones's finger pressed against the impossibly tight stretch of his skin, inserting along the baby's shoulder and moving, rotating, while his other hand pushed under Jim's belly, smearing his skin with his own scorching blood. He opened his mouth and wailed, slamming his head against Spock's shoulder. Bones's movements shifted Jim and inside him, and his skin stretched somehow _wider_ , and then he felt the immense pressure of her shoulders again, and Bones was telling him to push, push damn it, and he felt hot blood against his fiery skin, and then her shoulders folded and compressed and shoved him open. And he was shrieking, absolutely screeching, but couldn't hear his voice anymore. He was shaking uncontrollably, but couldn't feel his body anymore, strangled air see-sawing in and out of his compressed lungs as he wheezed. Chills gripped him from his head all the way down to his feet quivering on Bones's shoulders. He hunched over and tried to hold his last push, and his head dangled limply, and then both the loving men in his life were shouting. Spock's hands shook him, gripped his shoulders, and Bones was still holding him open, forcing his shaking, bloody thighs apart, leaning his face down to peer up at Jim and instruct him. But his open eyes weren't seeing anything except white. A strangled scream left his throat, one of uncontrollable fear and fading.

 **"JIM!"** Spock shouted, and it echoed throughout his mind. _"JIM! Do not give in! You promised me! Keep pushing!"_

Blinding strength and warmth from a furnace surged into him. Fingers pressed at his meld points. He slumped forward and to the side at Spock's shift in holding him, his reaching to press direct willpower and transfer of force. Jim couldn't afford time to make sense of it. Couldn't wait to gather another centering breath. Shaking and freezing and unable to think under the absolute agony of his baby stretching out of him, he pushed. Small gasps of air, small bouts of strength behind each push, he shrieked silently, his voice long gone with only rasping grates of his vocal chords bleeding up his throat. He had to hold on just a bit longer. His baby still needed him. He pushed the fog of unconsciousness away from the barrier with each surge of his abused muscles, each contraction that felt weak itself--as if it needed to keep clenching him and squeezing him even though there was nothing left to do with his fading, ruined body. His daughter's elbows popped out of him, and his vision sparked black, and then there was blood, wet gushing, and horrible, _horrible_ stinging pain, and a slicking sensation as Bones tugged her slippery torso and legs the rest of the way out of him. He felt her legs being pulled through him and free. Liquid poured from his body in a horrible sensation as bright lights flashed in his vision. His raw skin gaped around the sudden emptiness, clenching and opening and bleeding, and Jim whimpered, high and broken. He kept his eyes open enough to see a hazy shadow of his baby, covered in fluids and absolutely perfect in every way being held in Bones's hands, and he smiled, and he heard Spock gasp in wonder and relief and then panicked horror and _JIM, NO!_ , and Bones shouted at him too, swearing. A fading whimper fell out from him again, deflating him, and he gasped at the chill as the fog finally overtook his broken body, pulling him down against his will.

_____________________________

Watching Doctor McCoy pull his daughter out of Jim's body both exhilarated Spock and filled him with horror. Her tiny form was smeared in Jim's blood, the puckered, pruned skin dotted with cowl fluid that smeared her dark hair. McCoy's hands held her behind her head and her bottom as she twisted her slimy little body and scrunched up her face and screeched. It was one of the most incredible sounds Spock had ever heard, filled with innocence and wonder and the joyous relief of safe arrival. His eyes blurred in the myriad of emotions he felt no shame in holding space for. And then Jim whimpered and shuddered with a gasp, sliding limp in his arms as his body seized and went into shock. Spock caught him and shouted his name, gripping Jim's shoulders and shaking him and pressing through the bond to grab his fading consciousness and settle it against his own. He stared at Jim's pale, wan face, pulled tight in pain and completely lifeless as it lolled over Spock's arm. This was why Jim hadn't wanted him in a full mind-meld. He had _known_ he would need Spock aware and sharp outside to help him and their baby. He had actually anticipated something would go wrong. Underneath the fear Jim had been filled with was this deeper fright, the one that told him he would not last through his delivery. The selfless, _stubborn_ audacity of this man.

"Take her, Spock!" McCoy said. He handed Spock's daughter over to him, the umbilical cord stretching from her tiny body and pulling where she was still connected inside Jim's womb. 

The feel of her hot slippery skin in his hands nearly had Spock crying, and he was overcome in the need to cradle her in his arms and smother her in devotion and protection, while trying to reach Jim in raw fear and panic. He held his baby to him while he moved himself back on the bed so McCoy could lay Jim down in his lap. Jim's sweaty head rested on his thigh and Spock held Amanda to his chest with one hand while frantically holding the side of Jim's face with the other. McCoy was pressing his fingers to Jim's white throat, pulling back his eyelids that showed only the bloodshot whites of his eyes. He tossed his tricorder aside and dove to work between Jim's spread thighs, limp but still quivering in shock. Before Spock's eyes, as he held the second most precious being in his entire universe to his chest, he witnessed the scene in the corner of his eyes become something from his worst nightmare. It was just like he'd seen in his dreams, the ones he'd confessed to Jim, the ones Jim swore would never come true.

Blood was _everywhere_ on the ruined bed. The many towels they had laid out were now useless. Jim's swollen body, glimmering slick with sweat, was smeared in more and more blood as McCoy shoved his hands into Jim's body to try and find the tears. Jim's distended navel and the bottom swell of his belly held smeared handprints of red, and fresh globs rolled down the side. McCoy's face was white with panic and determination. He was gritting his teeth and muttering to himself, grabbing, using, and abandoning instrument after instrument. He glanced at his tricorder constantly, pressing buttons and smearing the device in blood. He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, leaving blood in his hair. Jim's white, pinched face showed no sign of movement or recognition.

"Come on, Jim," McCoy growled. "Stay with me...How's she doin, Spock?"

"She is...she is fine," Spock breathed. "Is Jim...?"

"He'll be okay. I think I found the last tear here. Godfuckingdamn it. He's just gotta prove me wrong every time I hope something will go smoothly for him. I'm sorry, Spock. I'll get her in a minute."

"Attend to Jim, Doctor." Spock glanced at Amanda again, snuggled against his chest. She was still squirming, but had quieted and was trying to press herself closer to his skin. Spock stroked the impossibly tiny points of her ears. He leaned down and nuzzled his face against her, breathing her in and reaching her frightened emotions to calm her. She recognized him and blinked her eyes open, revealing dark pupils that found his gaze immediately and stared at him. Spock smiled, despite his fear, and let himself cry again.

He shifted sideways on the bed as McCoy came and climbed onto the bed himself. He cradled Jim's head and lifted him out of Spock's lap, resting his head against his arm as he grabbed Jim under the shoulders and hauled him up higher onto the bed. He braced a pillow under Jim's head and then went back to straighten his legs. Spock settled beside him and rearranged his arms comfortably, caressing the side of his face and stroking it with his thumb. 

"Trade," McCoy said. He stretched his arms out for Amanda and let Spock come sit between Jim's legs and begin bathing him down. He clamped off the umbilical cord and took their baby to the other side of the room to begin cleaning her, checking her, and making notes. 

Spock focused fully on Jim, shaking in horror and his own mental exhaustion and fear. Jim's beautiful swollen body sprawled lifelessly on the bed, empty and broken now that it was no longer needed to hold their baby. His skin nearly blended in with the white sheets so that the sea of red seeping across the material everywhere underneath looked like other nightmares from one of Spock's many horrible memories--memories of away missions gone wrong, of holding Jim's lifeless body on some planet waiting to beam back while Jim's blood covered them both. Spock discarded the ruined towels and began wiping Jim down with a cool, wet towel, lifting him this way and that to clean behind his back, his hips. Worshipping this body that had sacrificed so much and endured so much further trauma on top of what it already accumulated in its young lifetime of horrors. Spock raised Jim's legs slowly, one at a time and cleansed them, holding them apart to gently dab at the raw, destroyed flesh in between, careful of the umbilical cord still stretching up inside him to the placenta. Jim's cold limbs trembled under his hands as he worked, and Spock pressed slow kisses to the inside of Jim's thigh. He watched Jim's face for any sign of consciousness, and caressed his still large belly with a fresh towel, stroking it gently with his bare hand. He could still feel it clenching under the skin, pulsing. He sighed and took a smaller cloth, wiping Jim's face, neck, and chest to remove the layers of sweat. He ran the washcloth through Jim's sweat-soaked hair, trying to soothe the flushed temperature, as he leaned close and kissed Jim's cheek.

"Can you hear me, k'diwa?" he whispered. "You did it, my darling. She is here, and she is perfect. We are here waiting for you. Come back to me."

He kissed Jim's parted lips, feeling the emotions and pains soaking through the contact. Jim's lips didn't respond. Again and again he kissed him, caressing his cheekbones and smoothing his hair back from his head. He ran his thumb over Jim's bottom lip, dry and cracked. Then he moved back down to Jim's belly, feeling it gently and keeping his hands on it. He lifted Jim's hips and placed a fresh towel under him as his body continued to bleed, but slower. He propped Jim's knees up again, keeping them raised, while he massaged Jim's belly to soften. It was still so large and round, even with their baby no longer inside him. Just another sign, another reminder of what his glorious mate had accomplished. Spock would never be able to look at Jim's body the same way again without remembering what it had done, what it had fought through in order for this to happen. He could not wait to love him through the frustrations and readjustment stages of postpartum, the emotions and doubts and discomforts. 

"She's perfectly healthy, Spock," McCoy said, pulling Spock out of his thoughts. He returned and handed Amanda back to him, swaddled in a soft blanket and with a grey beanie cap over her dark curls. "Just over 10 pounds 8 ounces. That's a Vulcan baby for you. Good god, man, no wonder Jim was screeching. And yet she's not that big--she's just got those dense bones working for her. She's gonna be a fighter, just like her parents. Here, you go sit up there beside Jim with her. Stay close to him."

McCoy bustled around the three of them on the bed. He wiped Jim down some more, checked between his thighs with a grimace and a shake of his head. He took two pillows and stacked them under Jim's thighs to keep his upper legs elevated. Then he began inserting IV lines into the back of Jim's hand for hydration fluids and morphine, and a central line in his elbow for a blood drip. He placed a monitor stand on the bedside table and attached the sensor pads to Jim's chest in order to follow his heart rate and blood pressure. He also took up a heavy blanket and draped it over Jim's chest to tuck him in, while the bottom half of his body remained uncovered. 

Spock sat against the headboard next to Jim's head. He nestled their daughter into the crook of Jim's arm beside his thigh, moving her blanket to place Jim's hand against her skin, hoping it would help draw him out of his unconsciousness, or at least help their mental connection to strengthen and provide comfort. Amanda slept and clenched her miniature hands open and closed. One hand stretched out of the blanket, hitting Jim's belly and staying there, as if trying to hold on. Spock guided her hand to wrap around Jim's forefinger where it rested around her. She curled against Jim's chest and kicked her feet on his belly, helping him retract and release the placenta in her own special little way. Spock kept one hand on top of her, while the other hand guarded Jim's face on the pillow and stroked his forehead. McCoy slumped in the chair beside the bed and sighed, dragging his clean hands over his tired face. He watched Jim's belly for signs of contractions to announce the delivery of the placenta.

"Strange to think this is still a stage of labor. He's still not done, even now."

Spock agreed that it was a strange consideration. But more than strange, it was disconcerting, and he only wanted Jim to enter a stable road of recovery so he could rest easy with both of them and cover them with healing and comfort. He watched Jim's belly clench through more contractions and continue to grip his unconscious body. And as the half hour mark approached, his concern grew, and McCoy put his face in his hands himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose and muttering vaguely about nothing ever being easy. He once again sat on his stool at the edge of the bed and removed the pillows under Jim's thighs to hold them up and study the bleeding between them. He glanced at his tricorder readings, then back between Jim's thighs, then back at the tricorder again.

"Shit," he sighed heavily. "He's spent. He can't birth the placenta, and the contractions aren't working it loose. This was what I was afraid of with his belly being so thin and overdistended. Retained placenta is still adhering to the uterine wall muscles. Goddamn it, Jim. Why can't your body do something the easy way for once? Just one time, and I'll throw away the medical books."

McCoy began palpitating Jim's belly, rolling his experienced hands along the sides, on top of the apex, across and down, and over and over in the repeating pattern. His fingers spread wide, digging and stroking gently while the palm of his hand pressed. He palpitated hard at the base of Jim's swollen belly, while at the same time tugged carefully on the umbilical cord that stretched up inside him. Spock grimaced as he watched, glancing at Jim's face to anticipate signs of discomfort. It was there under the surface, the haze of pain Jim couldn't rise above. Jim's eyebrows drew in slightly as he frowned. Spock tried to settle it with a press to Jim's meld points, but it only spread further in a surge of distress.

"I don't want to risk any injections to the umbilical cord to contract the womb," McCoy said. "As stubborn as Jim was about his no-drug rule, it's actually good, cause the last thing I want to risk right now is some unknown allergic reaction. For fuck's sake, even that morphine drip I've got him on is his own concoction. I have no way of knowing what any meds for this sort of thing would do to him."

McCoy continued talking, more to himself than anything. Then he he growled and hissed "fuck me," jumping from the stool for his tools and rushing to sterilize his hands anew. Jim's head began tossing and turning, his breath coming in low, shaky gasps. 

"He's hemorrhaging again, Mother of _fucking_ Moses," McCoy growled. "I did not want to have to do this manually, but here we go again, Jim."

Spock watched in horror as McCoy pressed Jim's thigh wide and held his wide, bleeding skin open while working his other hand far up into Jim's body. Jim jolted in his unconsciousness, groaning. McCoy's wrist rotated in blood as he felt inside and tugged on the umbilical cord. Jim's belly rolled in weak contractions and the firm swipes of McCoy's adept fingers underneath inside him. McCoy's face was carved still in focus. His free hand, smeared with blood again, palpitated the base of Jim's belly. He pressed down on the top of it and squeezed his hand, manually contracting the uterus. Jim's eyes fluttered and his face lost even more color. His teeth chattered and he cried out, driving his head back on the pillow. Spock removed Amanda from Jim's arm and held her while he continued pressing at Jim's meld points and stroking his thumb over his mate's cold cheek. His mind screamed in fury at Jim still experiencing such pain and lying still in such vulnerable danger. For several long minutes, McCoy continued palpitating Jim's belly and feeling for clinging portions of placenta inside Jim's body. At one point, even his entire wrist disappeared far inside, and Jim screamed, his eyes flying open in a haze of pain. His body reinitiated its own contractions on top of the ones McCoy was manually stimulating. Jim showed no recognition of seeing anything, but only gasped and moaned high in his throat. His chest was heaving and Spock was trying to calm him with one hand while he held their sleeping baby in the other. He was about to place Amanda in the bassinet nearby in case McCoy needed both his hands, but then the Doctor slowly removed his arm, revealing dripping blood up his forearm all the way down to his hand, which held onto the full, torn placenta as he pulled it free from Jim's body. He examined it on the towel, ensuring he'd gotten all of it, and then he was palpitating Jim's belly with both hands, smearing him in blood again as he tried to get Jim's womb to contract and slow the hemorrhaging. Jim moaned and shook, and Spock tried to keep breathing. He was so sweaty. So pale. To see Jim losing so much blood again so soon within the hour was beyond terrifying, and he once again found himself reaching into Jim's mind to hold his consciousness, cradle that golden thread of brilliant light and keep him from slipping further into shock once again.

McCoy was a mess of blood and tissue, and he was silent as he worked to stop the bleeding, going through towel after towel. He checked the bag of blood hanging on the pole beside the bed and scowled at it.

"I am not pumping blood back into your body, Jim, just so you can lose it again. You hear me in there?"

Once he finally got Jim stabilized after another 10 minutes, he cleaned everything again, wiping Jim down once more and placing towels to absorb the slow bleeding as he elevated Jim's thighs. He'd abandoned the pillows for a standing frame he placed on the bed and used to keep Jim's legs straight up and at a right angle. He pressed it against the back of Jim's thighs and draped his calves over the top, making sure his knees weren't bent too tight. The frame kept his legs in place and gave McCoy room to view and access between his thighs as needed. Jim was still shaking in his sleep, and Spock draped the blanket lower over the top of his belly, now that it was clean again. Amanda had stayed asleep in the cradle of his arm the entire time and he settled her onto the pillow beside Jim's head, letting her rest in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Jim took in a deep breath and turned his face into her touch, sensing her presence. And Spock watched over them both, allowing his eyes to close and rest for a while as he observed them through the bond and monitored them in their shared recovery.

McCoy once again plopped into the chair beside the bed and propped his face in his hand. "You did it, you beautiful bastard," he mumbled. Then he was asleep within minutes, but Spock knew it was a light sleep, and that he would stir at the slightest beep of Jim's monitors that alerted them to any change. But Spock would know it first since he was caressing and resting alongside Jim's very consciousness, still pulsing white and ragged with traumatizing pain. Spock breathed deeply, pressing safety and warmth, and felt Jim's weak response, acknowledging his presence but unable to do anything more. And Spock swaddled him in love and gratitude and worship, supporting him in the study of their sweet daughter between them in the bond, feeling her parents and sleeping in safety. She was here. And Jim had made it. This truth was his everything. And so, they rested. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really interested in exploring Jim's postpartum depression and how it relates to his normal depression that I view him as always having deep down just from everything in his childhood and youth.  
> Also, Selek is just so special to me, so I love having him come in and use that unique relationship they have in order to help Jim.

Epilogue:

When Spock sensed Jim waking, he nearly cried. It had been six days of anticipation while Jim remained unconscious, utterly drained and unable to wake up. Spock felt him under the surface, checking constantly in his mind for lingering pain. But he'd still been bleeding regularly. Doctor McCoy had developed two new curse word arrangements by the time he was able to get Jim stable for a full 48 hours without any complications. Jim's belly, though empty, had not reduced in size nearly at all. The uterus had been stretched so far that it was now having difficulty retracting properly. McCoy and Spock traded turns massaging and palpitating his stomach gently for hours at a time, and they let Amanda sleep on his bare chest so her pushing feet could help them. It was a full team effort. But as the uterus worked to contract, new bleeding occurred. McCoy had called Nurse Chapel to get to New Vulcan with more of Jim's blood type. He didn't trust anyone to send it, and wanted it delivered in person by someone he knew. Spock insisted that Christine stay and rest in their home, and she became a grateful presence, helping to take over while McCoy slept. She enjoyed rocking with Amanda and singing to her.

They had been sure to sponge bathe Jim and keep the linens fresh so that he would be comfortable when he woke. By the time Jim finally opened his eyes, he looked just as pale and sickly as he had during labor. His eyes were still bloodshot and rimmed red from the strain of pushing, and though he could finally breathe easy for the first time in months, he struggled for air. Spock caressed the mound of his cheek and the light stubble there as Jim fluttered his eyelids and blinked slowly, readjusting to the stimuli of the room. The lights were low, and gentle lamps helped create a soft environment. Incense burned in the corner, and an open window let in fresh, warm air. Jim smiled up at him, closing his eyes for another long moment while he raised a limp hand up to Spock's on his face. Spock took his fingers and squeezed them.

"How is your pain, t'hy'la?" he whispered softly.

Jim hummed in his throat. His voice was rough and weak. "I think Bones has me on the good stuff," he mumbled.

Spock kissed his nose. "That does not answer my question." He stroked Jim's jaw, dragging his fingers on the shadowed stubble. The texture never ceased to sent chills across his skin, and Jim often let it grow just to tease him.

"You..." Jim gave his most adorable pout with his eyes still closed. "You didn't shave my face on purpose."

Spock kissed his cheek. "And you still did not answer my question, k'diwa." 

Jim chuckled and opened his eyes again. "It's okay, Spock. I'm just really tired. How long was I out?"

"6 days and 15 hours," Spock answered. "I have been most anxious for you to wake. But you have faced a long ordeal, and Doctor McCoy said it is normal that you should expect to be tired for a while."

"How..." Jim licked his lips. "How is she?"

Spock cupped the back of Jim's neck and slowly tilted his head and shoulders a bit so that he could drink some water. Then he gently helped Jim sit up further, watching carefully as Jim grimaced and gasped. He propped an extra pillow behind his back and stroked the side of his face as Jim readjusted his aching muscles. 

"She is perfect, my Jim," he said. "Nurse Chapel is changing her at the moment, but I will go retrieve her." 

"Christine's here?"

"Indeed. Doctor McCoy asked her to bring some supplies, including more blood for your transfusions."

Jim sighed. "Yeah, I can tell that. It always hurts now with Khan's blood in there. It's like it has to inspect the new cells and convert them or something, I dunno. I always feel kind of icky for a while afterward."

Spock stroked Jim's forehead. He did not like hearing this, and made a note of his concern. Jim's body could not afford to begin rejecting infusions or other forms of medication. But Jim was staring up at him hazily with that blue he had missed so much, and so he pushed the worry from his eyes.

"Let me go get our daughter," he said, kissing Jim's forehead. He did not want to leave Jim unattended for longer than necessary. Fortunately, Nurse Chapel had heard them talking, and was in the process of bringing Amanda down the hallway when Spock left the room. Chapel's hair was free around her shoulders, and to see her in civilian Earth clothing was still strange. She had wrapped Amanda in a green blanket and left her head bare with its dark curls. Chapel smiled as she placed Amanda in his arms.

"How is the Captain?" she asked softly. "Do you want me to wake Doctor McCoy?"

"Negative," Spock said. "Jim is fine, and I believe seeing her will help a great deal. I will let you know if we require assistance. I appreciate your presence here."

Chapel patted his shoulder and smiled down at a sleeping Amanda. "I'm just so happy I got to come. I'm here as long as you need."

Spock's eyes softened and he glanced into the living room, spotting Doctor McCoy sprawled across the leather couch. His arm and one leg dangled onto the floor and his mouth hung open in complete hibernation. A knitted blanket had been draped over him at one point, but dragged now in disarray. Chapel rubbed the back of her head.

"Yeeeaaah," she said. "I tried to get him to sleep in the spare room, but he said he wanted to be out here so he could hear if you two needed anything. He says the same thing when he goes into his Sickbay office to sleep, and then it's like trying to wake the dead. And he's always in such a cranky mood for sleeping over his desk. But will he listen to me? Really, he makes me wonder which of you three is the most stubborn."

"I assure you. Doctor McCoy and the Captain are far more likely to claim that title than myself."

Chapel leaned on her tip toes and poked at the blanket under Amanda's chin. "This little one might beat all of you. With you and the Captain as parents, she will be running the Enterprise in no time. She'll have the whole crew wrapped around her finger."

"Of that, I have no doubt."

Spock thanked her again and returned to the bedroom. Jim had fallen asleep again, but he opened his eyes when Spock sat beside him on the bed. He stared at his baby in Spock's arms and breathed slowly, his eyes immediately watering and spilling down his pale face with a whispered "oh my god." He just stared at her and gasped slowly, as if trying to believe she was real. Spock understood the feeling. Small sobs were beginning to sound in Jim's throat, and he hiccupped, unable to speak.

"Here," Spock said. He pulled Jim's blankets back a bit and placed Amanda against his bare chest, helping Jim adjust his weak arms around her to hold her close. Jim held her on top of his belly, using it for support. He lowered his head and pressed his nose to her hair. He breathed long and deep and held her tucked under his chin. Spock rubbed circles on his back, letting Jim sit with the emotions as he always did for him. Tears spotted Amanda's blanket and Jim sniffed as he stared down at her face again. She stirred and stretched an arm out, whacking Jim in the chest with her fist. Then she opened her wide little mouth and yawned. Jim was laughing now as he cried. He traced her face with his finger, caressing the points of her ears.

"I can't believe how perfect she is." He was trying to be quiet as he cried, not wanting to shake her. "I can't believe we made something this beautiful."

Spock cupped Jim's jaw and tilted his face up. He wiped the tears with his thumb and returned Jim's giant smile with one of his own small, special smiles, reserved for the most memorable of occasions. He wrapped his other arm around Jim's shoulders, not liking how cold his skin still felt, but pushing it aside for favor of the immediate moment. 

"Of course she is beautiful, my Jim. She is of you." He kissed Jim's forehead and kept his lips there, pressing utter love and worship through the contact. 

Amanda scrunched her body in her blanket and began flailing, stretching her limbs. She kicked her feet loose and whacked Jim again. When she felt his skin, her eyes opened and she began crying. But she did not sound distressed. Jim caressed her face and held her close, kissing her head and rubbing his lips against the dark curls of hair.

"Hi, sweet girl," he crooned. Spock blushed with pure adoration at Jim's voice. He spoke so quietly. It was not in the annoying upper register that he had heard other humans use when talking to children. It was simply delicate...and all Jim. As if every word was a wave of gentleness and love. Jim's face, as tired as he was, absolutely lit up as he gazed at his daughter. Spock could not remember the last time he had seen his mate smile so openly. His eyes were squinted so tight from laughing and smiling he could hardly see her. But he was staring at her anyway, like he was soaking up every little detail. And so was Spock.

"I know, I know. We're right here. We've waited so long for you!" Jim nuzzled her face and gave her his finger to grip. Amanda made her own noises in return at hearing Jim's voice, recognizing it after hearing it for so long. Indeed, one of the things Spock had been most fond about was how often Jim talked to her while pregnant. Always rubbing his belly and speaking down to her, telling her about their day and everything that was going on. Amanda had even been privy to private Starfleet intel Jim shared with her, though he always told her she was sworn to secrecy.

"I can't believe she's finally here," he gasped. "I can't stop looking at her, Spock."

"Nor can I," Spock whispered. "The holo-images from your ultrasounds did not do her justice."

Jim glanced at his round belly and shook his head. "She was in there for so long. This perfect, tiny...well, she didn't feel so tiny--what was it you said--six days ago? It's just...it's so strange for her to be _here_ now. I feel...I dunno."

Spock did not miss the immense roll of sadness and loneliness that suddenly came from Jim, or the way his breath hitched. It was one more thing he would be mindful of. It made sense that Jim would feel sad in a way now. Everything was different. It would take time to adjust. For all three of them. And he would be there. He gently caressed Jim's belly, grateful for it, and then traced Amanda's ears.

Jim laughed, sniffing again and trying to shake out of his stupor. "Those sure aren't mine. That's all you, sweetheart. And just look at that hair! She's gonna look just like you, just like her sa-mekh."

"Perhaps," Spock said. He held the back of her head over Jim's hand already cradled there. "I believe she will take more after you though, ashayam."

"And your father thought _you_ were an emotional little Vulcan."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "He was not wrong. But yes, it will be fascinating to observe him learn to interact with her. Perhaps he will come to reappreciate the stoicism I displayed as a child."

Jim chuckled and tilted his head up to kiss Spock, leaning into his touch as Spock kissed him back, slow and gentle. "That would indeed be logical," he said. 

A soft knock on the door had them glancing to see Chapel slowly opening it. She came in quietly, looking apologetic, but she had a warm feeding bottle in her hand. She came to Jim's side of the bed and handed it to him while simultaneously tilting up his chin to observe him closely. 

"I thought you might like to feed her," she whispered. "How are you feeling, Captain?"

"Thanks, Christine. We're all right. That was totally a Bones move, by the way, trying to distract me with this while you checked on me."

"What can I say?" Chapel smiled and checked the monitors on the bedside and fingered with Jim's IV lines. Another McCoy technique of manual inspection. She shared a look with Spock over Jim's head. She did not seem concerned, but she was obviously not happy with the readings either. Spock understood.

"You need some nutrients yourself, Captain. I'll fix you up something gentle that Mr. Spock is going to make sure you eat at least half of. Doctor McCoy's orders... Now then. Do you know how to hold that?"

Jim had already begun tilting the bottle, and Amanda latched onto it eagerly, waving her fists and staring up at Jim. "How hard can it be, Christine?" he asked while still watching Amanda, as if he couldn't look away.

"You may be able to captain a starship, sir, but that doesn't mean you know how to bottle feed an infant. Now keep it at an angle like that so she's not getting in any air bubbles." She adjusted his hold on it. "There, just like that. And pause every now and then so she doesn't gulp it all too fast. Got it?"

Jim smiled up at her. Tired and emotionally strung out, but grateful. "Thank you," he said, and Spock knew he meant it. "Make sure Bones is taking care of himself. And you too, okay? The house is yours. Eat whatever you want. Order whatever you want. We'll put it on Sarek's tab."

Chapel laughed and paused at the door on her way out. "Oh, Mr. Spock's already given me permission. We'll take care of everything, Captain. Don't you worry. I'm sure Doctor McCoy will be in in a little while." 

Once she left, Jim closed his eyes and leaned his head on Spock's shoulder. Spock tightened his embrace around his mate and carded his fingers through the soft hair. Jim sighed contentedly, letting Spock readjust him a bit to lean fully into him. He continued feeding Amanda, keeping her upright a bit, and Spock closed the circle with his other arm, holding her along with him. His forearm nestled against Jim's belly under the blankets, and Jim sighed again at the contact. 

"God, I love you, Spock," he breathed. 

"And I you. Thank you, my darling," Spock whispered into Jim's hair. Jim simply turned his face deeper into Spock's shoulder. 

They listened and watched their daughter drink her food, her adorable suckling sounds filling the room as the only noise. Jim was asleep again within 30 seconds, as if holding their baby to him and being held himself in Spock's arms was all he needed to slip back into peaceful rest. Spock took over holding the bottle as Amanda finished. As hungry as she'd seemed, she still had some left over, and Spock held onto it for her, suspecting she would want some more fairly soon. If she was at all like her human father. Spock felt the exhaustion and exuberance filling Jim's mind, overwhelmed with contentment and relief. And apprehension. Spock felt the same emotions matched in his own mind, but he pressed comfort and protection into Jim's mind nonetheless, reminding him, as he always would, that he was there. 

________________________

Sarek was the first official visitor a few days later. Spock had worked with Jim to get him showered and in comfortable clothes, along with the thick absorbency pads he still needed for bleeding. McCoy had told him he would continue bleeding lightly for the next few weeks, but that it should gradually taper down after the first. Jim was not pleased, but he was so emotionally strung out and exhausted still that he could not stay focused long enough to be frustrated. He spent his days sleeping, eating the yogurt, crackers, and slices of fruit Chapel kept bringing him, and watching Spock change and clothe Amanda. He could not get out of bed unassisted and did not even try. His complete lack of energy or complaining about further bedrest concerned Spock, as it was by far the most out-of-character development yet for his mate. To see Jim so depleted of strength shook him. He was slowly gaining color again, but his face held its shadows and tired lines that disappeared only when he was holding Amanda. Even his voice remained soft and subdued, as if he did not possess the energy or motivation to speak. 

More than this, Spock monitored the wildly fluctuating emotions flooding Jim's side of the bond. Sadness, even confusion at times, as well as joy and anxiety swarmed in constant alternations. Forgetting that Amanda was being changed by Nurse Chapel, for instance, would send him into an immediate panic until Spock could calm him and remind him. Then, under the confusion, embarrassment and frustration rose, and Spock could hardly bear to see Jim's beautiful, blank face go through so many raging emotions. His mental barrier had collapsed in ruins upon waking after the traumatic delivery, and the aftermath of it was shocking. Spock found himself performing regular maintenance mind-melds with Jim, assessing the weakness of his mental strength and reforging it gently with the bond's light and warmth. He was unsettled himself as the bond commanded him to maintain this vigilance. Jim was too lethargic to protest, and Nurse Chapel happily continued her care of Amanda while Spock and McCoy tended to Jim. 

He struggled with Jim's emotions because of their wildness. Jim's mind was rarely chaotic. Disorganized at times, perhaps, from his perspective, but still ordered. The strain on Jim now was immense as his body completely upended his hormones. Jim's mind was frustrated and weak, knowing logically what was happening, but still unable to reconcile. All Spock was able to do was be an anchor for him. He did not attempt to fix, because there was nothing that was broken, despite Jim's upheaval. All of his emotions were valid, even if they were exhausting. He wished only that Jim could talk more about it with him. He knew Jim did not want to burden him with what he did not understand himself, but that was irrelevant, and he attempted to remind Jim of this constantly when he found him sitting in bed and staring out the window. His face remained pale and focused, but Spock knew his mind was raging a war.

But slowly, things regulated. Spock spent days just sitting in bed with Jim and holding him while he cradled Amanda. This was the scene when Sarek came to visit, and it took them both a moment to look up and notice he was there when he arrived. Spock was always slightly hesitant and wary when his father was around Jim, as he knew Jim's fierce determination and pressure to please him, even though he had tried constantly to rid Jim of that opinion. Though Jim could not see it, he knew his father approved of him and was, in his own way, proud to have Captain Kirk as his son-in-law. He was pleased to offer the extra affordances of protection and Vulcan citizenship rights by family association that he could grant through his political status within both New Vulcan and Starfleet. And yet to see him standing so serenely in their bedroom now, gazing down at his children and this new little one... Spock blushed with pride and fondness. 

"How are you recovering?" Sarek asked politely, but intentionally.

"We're doing just fine," Jim answered. Sarek, unlike Spock, did not recognize it for the difficult untruth that it was, but Spock remained quiet and only rubbed Jim's shoulder pointedly, pushing reassurance and grace through the bond. 

Jim smiled tiredly up at Sarek and held Amanda out to him. Sarek hesitated only a moment, and then gathered her close, studying her and gazing so intently for several lengthy minutes. He stroked her face with a long finger and held it there. Amanda kicked her feet and squawked, trying to grab onto his finger. And Sarek's mouth curved into a small smile, the same smile Spock had.

"Her mind is strong," Sarek said softly. "Your connection to her will serve you all well as she grows. I am told you...have named her Amanda?"

Jim smiled again and Spock simply nodded. Sarek did not reply, but gazed back at his granddaughter and let out a long, heavy sigh. He stroked her tiny face again and whispered, "Taluhk nash-veh k'dular, kan'bu Amanda." 

Sarek remained and rocked Amanda like the casual expert he was while he asked after their state of affairs and what he could provide. He also asked further on their plans for the Enterprise, and Spock assured him that Commander Sulu would remain in temporary command while they finished their maternity leave. Spock was pleased, and knew Jim was as well, when Sarek reminded them that he was prepared to offer any assistance diplomatically that the Enterprise may need if Sulu encountered complications.

"I retain confidence that Commander Sulu is a competent officer, as you have trained him for this position and would not leave your ship and crew to anyone for whom you did not vouch, Kirk," he said. "Still, Starfleet would be unwise to think they can manipulate the Enterprise simply because you and my son are not aboard."

Jim smiled. "I agree, sir. And thank you. But it's Jim."

Sarek blinked and Spock raised his eyebrow. "Trust me, father. It is best that you do not fight on this matter."

"Fight? That is a strong choice of words. You may have made the error of doing so, my son, but I know when to address a familiar human according to the manner that they instruct you to. You yourself should know wiser."

Jim chuckled, unable to help himself as Spock blushed. Sarek raised his own eyebrow at Spock and studied Amanda's face once more before handing her back into Jim's arms.

"I will call you Jim, as long as you also call me Sarek during all unofficial business. My wife once corrected my own father, saying that 'her mother was a ma'am, but not her'. And yet, it is not lost on me that we have had this conversation before, you and I. We shall have to be more diligent in our address of each other."

Spock touched his two fingers to Jim's hand, and then over Amanda. "Reminders are necessary, are they not?" he asked Jim quietly.

Jim sighed and returned the touch with his own fingers. He understood Spock's reference to his current struggles, and to his frustration at the slow recovery process itself. But Spock would always be there to remind him of what mattered, and what was true. Namely, his commitment to Jim in every way. And Sarek seemed to sense Jim's fatigue. He declined Spock's offer to walk him to the door, instructing him to stay with Jim and _reminding_ them of his ready willingness to visit and help whenever they desired.

"I am...filled beyond gratitude at the new life you have brought into our family," he said quietly. 

_________________________________________

Jim had been grateful enough when Sarek arrived to see Amanda. It was amazing to see the same spark in his eye and the same small smile that he loved in Spock. It was very easy to see where he got his adorable emotional ticks from. It was yet another reminder of how much he wished his mother-in-law was still here. Sarek's love of Amanda had so much to do with his and Spock's relationship, and he hurt inside that Amanda would never know his grandmother. He traced Amanda's face with his thumb and smiled at her. She spent so much time just watching him, content to feel his waves of love and adoration through his mind to hers. When she cried, he and Spock were able to sense what she needed, and even though they couldn't always communicate to her that they were trying to help, but they learned to recognize more and more. She knew both of them, and responded to Jim more violently. Spock could quiet her crying with calming rocks and a touch to her restless mind, but with Jim, all she had to do was come in contact with his skin and it was like a light switched on and she flew into excitement, and then calm. 

Holding her was all that helped him right now. Jim had been emotional all his life. He knew this. He reacted to things strongly, let go of things slowly--if at all, and didn't respond well to things he couldn't control. But even as a traumatized teenager rescued from Tarsus, he'd never felt his emotions fluctuate as violently and frequently as they were doing now. He knew, logically, that his hormones were all over the place and that he needed to be patient and show himself some grace. But that was easier said than done, and as supportive as Spock was, he was losing his mind trying to justify and explain things he couldn't. He feared Spock would lose patience. He sensed his frustration when he himself was frustrated and impatient at his switching moods. He figured he deserved it. Jim cradled Amanda and gazed at her, smiling so she wouldn't see his unhappiness. But he couldn't stop his tears. He sighed in disappointment when he heard the door open.

"Ashal-veh," Spock said quietly. He came to the bedside and settled beside Jim, kissing his forehead. 

"I know, Spock. I know."

"I am only here to help you, ashayam. I...struggle to see you so unsure of yourself." He stroked Jim's forehead.

"And you think I don't?" Jim glanced up with tears in his eyes as he cradled Amanda. "I don't understand, Spock. And I'm trying. I really am."

"Please, Jim..."

"Please what? I'm so angry! All the time! And I'm so lonely, even though you're both right here. And she's...this is such a gift! I'm so selfish. I don't understand--"

Spock wrapped both arms around Jim, shushing and kissing his temple. Jim tried to keep himself calm as he cried, not wanting to disturb Amanda curled against his chest. She watched him, curious, but did not join him in crying. Spock wrapped Jim's chaos with calm and acceptance. No words. Jim was grateful he didn't try and "logicize" his emotions. The biggest issue wasn't even his fluctuating emotions, but his guilt and self-criticism over them. That habit had been with him longer than his violent emotions. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he hadn't been his own worst enemy. 

"That is why I am here, t'hy'la," Spock whispered. "Remember what I told you before. There is nothing we cannot handle together. I am here, whether you like it or not. There is no timeline for what you are experiencing. No expected pace."

"The Enterprise..."

"Will wait for us. _Believe_ this. Remind yourself of it when your fear tells you otherwise."

Jim breathed heavily, just gazing on at Amanda. He closed his eyes and calmed himself, accepting Spock's help--which always seemed to be the hardest part. He still felt himself crying though when their cracked door opened wider. Bones stepped in and took one look at them and nodded. He'd talked to them both already about postpartum expectations and patience. Jim was grateful he didn't say anything now. Instead, he bounced on the balls of his feet in a way that had Jim raising his eyebrow in curious expectation despite himself.

"Turns out this here visitor may have arrived just in time," he said. 

When he stepped aside and let in Selek, Jim began crying anew. Spock sighed and kissed Jim's temple again. Jim didn't ask him to leave, didn't realize he even wanted him to, but when Spock rose from the bed and left with Bones, letting Selek take his place, he once again became confused by his own desires and emotions. The old Vulcan climbed onto the bed entirely, curling his long limbs under him with slow and careful precision. He put his hand on Jim's shoulder, rubbing it easily through his thin t-shirt, and drawing much closer to Jim than he would have normally. He was awash with obvious emotions himself, gazing in wonder at Amanda and in concern at Jim. 

"Ashayam," Selek gasped. "You have been through so much. Please. You must release it."

"I don't know how. I mean, look at her! She's so perfect..."

"She is," Selek agreed. He cupped the back of her head and gazed at her. Amanda watched him in return, a strange acceptance in seeing someone so similar to her father and recognizing the similarity of his mind. She tilted her head in the tiny beginning of what would become Jim's favorite Spock expression in her. 

"You are a wonder, Jim," he said. "She is beyond perfection, and you have gone through a traumatic event unlike any you have ever experienced. I cannot begin to imagine all that you may be feeling. Spock is not trying to understand either."

Jim leaned into the Vulcan's shoulder. "Was it Spock's idea for you to come today?"

Selek straightened a bit and raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he watched Amanda yawn and reach for his finger. "I can neither confirm nor disprove that statement. But I did give my word that I would visit. Perhaps my timing is coincidence."

"Coincidence my ass, old man," Jim mumbled. "But I'm glad."

Selek allowed himself a moment to stroke the hair from Jim's forehead. It was growing longer, and Jim knew his Spock loved carding his fingers through it as well. He wiped the tears from Jim's cheek with his thumb and accepted Amanda when Jim handed her over. He cradled her in his arms and shook his head in wonder, much the same way he had gazed at Jim when he'd seen him pregnant. Amanda quickly fell asleep while Jim watched, and Selek placed a gentle kiss on her head. Then he rose from the bed and lowered her gently into the elevated bassinet and watched over her for a moment.

"The hanging mobile is quite appropriate," Selek remarked. Jim smiled. The crew had arranged for a mobile with a centerpiece of the Enterprise and dangling stars and planets. Amanda loved it, reaching for it often, staring at when Jim or Spock sent it spinning. Jim knew that even now his ship was putting its same spell over her as it had him, so many years ago now it seemed.

Selek came back to Jim's side of the bed, standing beside him and reaching out a hand. Jim knew he could see how tired he was, and he felt no need at all to pretend with him. He took Selek's hand and let him pull the covers back from his still swollen body. When he blushed and looked away, Selek simply looped an arm around his shoulders and slowly helped him sit up. Jim grimaced and breathed carefully. He still hurt everywhere and was under strict instructions from Bones to limit his movement outside of bed. He was still bleeding and, for the first time in a long time, was happy to stay sitting, as every shift still sent twangs of pain deep inside him. But he'd refused any more of Bones's pain hypos, and he knew he needed to gradually begin moving. It had been two weeks already. He carefully shifted his legs over the side of the bed. His maternity lounge pants fit comfortably, much more than they had for the last few months of pregnancy when they were no longer adequate. Jim sighed and stared at his round belly in his lap. He felt the strong desire to rub it like always, but he stopped himself.

"Ashayam..."

"It's just so strange," Jim whispered. "It's like she should still be in there. I...part of me wants her to be." His hand itched again and he let it come to his belly, just holding it. 

Selek stayed standing. "Have you spoken with Spock about this?"

"Of course," Jim sighed. "And he knows through the bond, too. It's just...a lot."

"It is," Selek agreed. "It is not unnormal to feel these things, Jim. Doctor McCoy has discussed postpartum depression with you, has he not? I would find it logical that everyone experiences it differently when they have carried and delivered a child. Your role in caring for Amanda has altered now, true, but it is still there. There is no shame in your feelings, ashayam. You _must_ forgive yourself when you begin to criticize your emotions."

Jim sighed and finally raised his head to look at him. "You're giving me advice on accepting emotions?"

Selek shrugged. "I have...more experience in these matters. I am living proof that uncomfortable emotions cannot be suppressed. They are part of you. And they are glorious, Jim. Do not hide your struggle. Do not condemn your journey."

Jim kept his eyes on the Vulcan, but it was difficult. His vision blurred again and he let himself cry for a long moment. Selek wrapped his arms around Jim's shoulders as Jim leaned his face into the Vulcan's robes and held onto him. Selek rubbed Jim's back in gentle circles, encouraging him to let it out. There was no judgement. No impatience. Just never-ending grace and acceptance. So much like Spock. So much like the look he felt inside his mind all the time. And yet could not appreciate. Could not accept help from in this matter that should be his alone to handle.

"Grace," Selek whispered. "Remember?" 

Selek prompted Jim to raise his chin. He wiped the tears away and held his face as Jim sighed and regained control of his breathing. It felt good. And though Jim had been crying his fair share lately, this time felt different. Necessary. Spock had once told him that what is wise is never unnecessary--something his father had said to him the day they lost Vulcan. Jim treasured these words and promised to try and let Spock in more. When he was composed, Selek had Jim grasp his upper arms while the Vulcan took his elbows, helping Jim to slowly and carefully stand to his feet. Jim groaned and gripped Selek's arms, feeling completely stable as he was held. He felt Selek's eyes on him, studying for pain. He breathed steadily, mixed emotions fighting for dominance.

"You have not done this recently, have you?" Selek asked.

Jim grimaced in a smile and met Selek's eyes before shaking his head. Slowly, they began to circle the room, and Selek opened a window that had been closed earlier. The mid-morning light streamed in, and Jim blinked against it, realizing it had been a while since he'd seen it. He probably looked as pale as he felt, but Selek's firm grip kept him moving. It felt so strange to stand and walk without the huge weight he'd been accustomed to carrying inside him and over his hips. His back still hurt, but felt oddly lighter. It was swayed a bit still from where it had realigned, and that was what hurt him now more than anything. His bones felt weak and shaky, and though the hairline fractures in his hip joints had been fixed, it felt tender to flex them again. But it felt good to feel this discomfort. To move and stretch. Between the large bedroom and Jim's micro pace, Jim was soon sweating with the casual steps he and Selek made. They stopped and gazed at Amanda sleeping in her tall bassinet. Jim breathed heavily, feeling better than he had in days. Selek rubbed his shoulder. He stood there with Jim, a silent presence. Jim watched his baby daughter sleep, her pointed ears that Jim never grew tired of tracing when he held her. His belly pressed into the side of her tiny bed, preventing him from standing entirely close to it. As he gazed at her, he saw both his swollen body and her tiny one. Together. He didn't try to stop it when his eyes watered again. He would get through this. He knew he would. 

"One day at a time, Jim," Selek told him. "Would you permit me to stay and prepare a meal for you again? I know Doctor McCoy has a strict diet he is intending for you to follow."

Jim huffed out a chuckle. "Yeah. Me and food. Always a touchy relationship. But he's always stressed about me, so that's not new either."

Selek turned sideways to face him. "You did not answer my question, Jim."

"You know, I used to be able to get away with deflection all the time. Then you all came into my life."

Selek smiled a bit, but raised his eyebrow. Still waiting. Daring him to avoid the subject again. Jim rolled his eyes. 

"Of course you may stay. You never need to ask. Just don't be offended if I can't keep down whatever you make."

"I am a Vulcan. I have no ego to bruise."

Jim snorted. "We both know that's not true, old man. But I'll let it slide."

And though he knew he only shared a bond with his Spock, Jim remembered the ever-faint connection he shared with Selek. Like the echo of a whispered conversation always in his mind. And he pushed his fragmented emotions--all of them, but especially his gratitude--across to the old Vulcan rubbing his shoulder. Selek's fingers stilled, and then he squeezed Jim's shoulder. And in return, Jim felt contentment, fondness, and the hint of amusement Selek always seemed to carry when around him. It was a perfect time of quiet until...

"Wow, she's still ruining the moment," Jim said. He shook his head and slowly walked away toward the door. "You're up on diaper duty. I'm gonna just give you two a moment and go give Bones a heart attack."

And as Jim carefully exited the room, he heard Selek gently cooing at his baby girl. "Have they all left us, little Amanda? What shall we do about that, I wonder. We will show them. Yes, we shall, my dear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of the series by far. I have a few one-shots planned of going back to when Jim is still pregnant, trying to get pregnant, etc. And of course a few flash forward scenes with little Amanda!


End file.
